


Beneath the Ice

by PrinceParrots



Series: The Swordsman of the Snow [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceParrots/pseuds/PrinceParrots
Summary: Asterly turned six and as is tradition for snowdrops, it's time for him to learn how to ice skate.
Series: The Swordsman of the Snow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872589





	Beneath the Ice

Cold winter winds swept across the fields, carrying with them falling flakes and frosted ground. Asterly sniffed, packing a tight snowball in his gloved hands, couched outside his home. His sisters all ran about, laughing, singing, and shouting as they played; their skirts fluttering and dragging with them powdery snow. The corners of his lips twitched up in the faintest ghost of a smile at the sound and he watched the snowball slowly shrink and drip out from between his fingers, soaking the fabric of his gloves in the process. They’d begged for him to join their games only moments prior but he’d kindly refused, awaiting his father’s arrival.

Soon enough the soft crunching of stepped on snow sounded and he felt a large presence beside him. He swallowed thickly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as his father crouched down beside him, his presence warm enough to melt a ring of snow around him and finish off the last of the small, mostly melted snowball. He smiled softly, ruffling Asterly’s crisp white hair. “Are you ready?” He asked and Asterly shrugged, hugging his knees tight to his chest. 

“Leif!” Asterly’s mother called from inside their snug cottage, his father turning to offer her a bright smile. “Be gentle with Aster! He’s a fragile boy!”

Leif rolled his eyes, scooping Asterly up in his arms and holding him tight to his chest. Asterly sighed, enjoying the warmth of his father, a shield against the ice, resting his ear against Leif’s chest and listening to his rumbling laughter like a snow beast’s purr. “He’ll be fine! Asterly is a strong young man. He’ll sooner skate the entirety of the lake than find harm rapping at his door.”

She fixed him with one more stern look and a quick “he’s six, not sixteen! Remember that,” before she retreated back into the house, Leif setting Asterly down again and leading him through the snow blanketed grounds until they reached the frozen over lake. Leif crouched down, staring out at the glossy surface. “You know,” he breathed, “I’ll take you back here again in the early morning hours. At the right time, when everything is just so, you can hear the ice sing.”

Asterly frowned, eyebrows knitting close together as he peered into the surface of the ice, watching his own reflection pout back at him, pale cheeks and nose glowing a vibrant pink hue, stark in contrast against his paper pale skin and snow white hair. “How can the ice sing when it has no mouth?”

That familiar chuckle rang out again, warm and hearty and it had Asterly burying his face as far as it would go into the collar of his jacket, that tight embarrassment rising up in his chest at how ignorant he must have sounded next to his father. “Do you hear the wind singing? How it whispers and howls as it runs by your ears?” Asterly paused, staring out across the lake and focusing on the sounds around him. He held his breath, picking up each swirl of ice and every low wail in the wind. He closed his eyes, straining to figure out what the wind was whispering, trying to imagine where it planned to take its words and what it planned to do with them once they’d gotten there. Another soft breath of laughter pulled him from his focus and bright golden eyes landed on shimmering blue. “You shant understand what the wind whispers as it flutters by. Its words are not for ears like ours. Neither is that of the ice, but it’s still our duty to admire the song nonetheless. It would be unreasonable to expect it to be any other way.”

Asterly pouted further, kicking at the snow beneath his new boots. “Why then, does the ice only sing in the early morning?”

“Oh, it sings at any moment it pleases.” Leif said suddenly. “The early morning before the snow beasts have awoken and before the great north birds have taken flight to sing their own songs is just the best time to hear it. When you can hear nothing but the ice because the rest of the world has gone to sleep and not yet woken. The ice sings softly you know. To properly hear it,” he pointed a finger toward the middle of the lake, wrapping his other arm around Asterly and pulling him close, their breaths coming out in streaming clouds of hot air against the outdoors. “You must sit all the way out there, with your ear to the ice like you were listening to its heartbeat.”

Asterly pulled a face, his nose and eyes scrunching up tight. “Why is that?”

Leif pulled back, smiling down at Asterly, that soft and caring and ever so gentle smile. “Because much like you, it sings from the heart. Now,” he reached out, hoisting Asterly up from under his armpits and plopping him onto his feet. “You remember how to draw your runners from your boots?” Asterly nodded, flexing his feet inside his boots to get the metal blades to unsheathe from their hiding spots. He wobbled for a moment on the thin bars, arms flying out to steady his stance before his father caught him. “Alright, I already told you everything you need to know. Now we just put it into practice.” With that, Leif gave Asterly a gentle push onto the ice, watching from the lake’s shore as he slowly slid out across the surface.

Asterly held his arms out still, his knees bent, heart thundering in his chest as his breath quickened. He continued to slide, tense and unmoving and his mind blanked, emptier than the words of the wind. He reeked of fear and he was fairly certain his father could smell it from his place on the shore. Eventually he stilled, coming to a halt in the middle of the lake. He gasped, ragged breaths puffing plumes of white steam, his eyes wide as he stared below him into the blue-black darkness of the lake. Vaguely he wondered what kind of beasts might reside within the frozen lake, which ones winter brought with it that went unseen, unlike the furred and feathered land and sky snow beasts, trapped beneath the layer separating him from the unfrozen but still bone chilling water below.

It was then that he heard it.

A soft wail and a loud crack, just beneath his feet. His lip trembled and only then did he feel cold.

His mind raced, every snow beast he’d ever seen in his short life coming to mind, becoming twisted and distorted to fit the lifestyle beneath the tundra. He’d seen burrowing beasts, running beasts, and even flighted beasts but never had he even imagined what kind of monster hid beneath the inky water. Was one perhaps staring back at him?

He trembled, full body shivers and finally the small puddle that formed beneath him caught his attention. At the same time another drop fell into the puddle and quietly he wondered when he’d begun crying and how had his tears become many enough to gather together in such a volume.

“Asterly! You have to move!” His father’s voice cut through his thoughts, his head slowly turning to see the latter rushing across the ice, his faint voice growing louder slowly but surely. “Asterly, go!”

He opened his mouth, a small croak escaping and he curled in on himself, dropping to his knees on the ice, eyes screwed tightly shut, and sobbing. “I’m scared!” He cried, his small voice breaking.

“Don’t be! There’s nothing to be afraid of!”

“Yes there is!” He choked on his words, coughing as he’d gasped too much dry, icy air for his throat to handle. His forehead hit the ice, more tears sliding onto its surface and the puddle of water grew rapidly bigger. As he knelt to the winter’s mercy he heard it again. A haunting, echoing murmur from beneath the surface. “There’s beasts beneath the ice!”

His father slowed for a moment, staring out at the small form as he cried against the frozen surface. Asterly sucked in another shaky breath, slowly peeking into the murky ice again. He wet his lips, tasting the salt of his tears as he did so and slowly he pressed closer to the ice, his hands and knees dipped into puddles of water. “Hello?” he croaked. His voice echoed endlessly into the black and he gingerly pushed himself up to sit on his knees, his puffy, tear laden eyes scanning the lake before him.

_“Hello,”_ the ice replied.

Asterly could have sworn his heart stopped. 

“Asterly, listen to me!” Leif called again, his voice calmer. “There’s nothing under the ice.”

Asterly turned, glaring in his father’s direction. “How do you know that?”

Leif took a sharp breath, quietly muttering to himself about the mind of a child. “Asterly. The only thing separating you from the beast below is that ice.” Asterly stilled, his chest still heaving as he looked below him at the puddle of water. He’d sunk near an inch into the ice, noting the hand shaped grooves in its surface where he’d been bowing previously. “You run too warm, my dear.” His father warned. “You just have to keep moving.” Suddenly Leif appeared beside Asterly, lifting him up again and setting him back on his feet, away from the patch of melted ice. He leaned in close, hugging Asterly to his side and murmuring into his pink ear. “Quell your fears and race ahead or else your trepidation will be your demise.” He pushed Asterly forward again, gently, just to give him a start before he pushed himself forward along the ice, drifting slowly backwards alongside his son.

Asterly furrowed his brow, watching Leif skate for a moment before he began copying his movements, planting one foot in front of the other in semi even strides. His confidence only grew, and each stride became bolder and more confident. Leif beamed, his smile brighter than the sun reflecting off the pure white snow, his laughter bubbled up again, a deep and hearty sound filled with adoration and excitement. “Look at you!” He cried, skating circles around Asterly whose own smile began to form as secondhand glee began to flood his senses. Leif did small jumps and twirls, snowflakes dancing around him and he grasped Asterly’s little hands in his own large ones, guiding him across the expanse of frozen blue. Their laughs rose into the cold air, drifting along with the whispers of the wind.


End file.
